Chapter 000
Writing a good introduction is always difficult.
I could write fluently once I got started, but often I wasn't even allowed that much. I'd crumpled and tossed dozens of attempts. Not only was it frustrating to be unable to choose satisfying sentences, but the gazes fixed on the tip of my brush made it unbearable.
I had already spent half an hour trying to select the right opening lines.
"…How long do you intend to watch me?"
In the end, I had no choice but to put down my brush without writing a single character.
These were people I found difficult to deal with. How could I have expected renowned masters of the martial world to visit my bookshop? I was annoyed.
"Amitabha. Don't mind us, benefactor."
"Infinite Buddha. You're being too sensitive, Taoist friend."
An elderly Taoist with an elegant demeanor befitting the description "immortal bearing," and a monk with a distinct religious mark on his forehead. They were undoubtedly famous masters from Wudang and Shaolin that everyone would recognize.
But to me right now, they were just people preventing me from writing.
My head was throbbing, and my words naturally became sharp.
"Am I the one being sensitive?"
I'm merely an ordinary bookshop owner without a shred of inner energy. The only special thing about me might be that I'm not originally from this world, but that alone doesn't compare to these martial arts masters before me.
I wanted to live a life far from the martial world, yet here I was—being visited by masters from Wudang and Shaolin. Any hope for an ordinary life was long gone.
"Heh heh…"
"Hmm, hmm."
"If you keep watching me like that, it will take even longer to write."
At my words, the monk's and the Taoist's eyebrows twitched.
"Ah, ahem. We can't have that. Mmm. If we're causing discomfort, we'll wait outside."
"Amitabha. Master Mujin, let's step outside."
As soon as the Taoist called Mujin and the monk headed outside, I locked the door behind them.
I just want to live a normal life writing and selling books—why do these martial arts people keep bothering me?
"…This is maddening."
It's incredibly burdensome dealing with martial artists who barge into my bookshop after I wrote a novel featuring Wudang and Shaolin. It makes me wonder if I should write something else next time.
I collected my thoughts and sat back at my desk.
No matter what anyone says, I enjoy writing—especially martial arts novels that I've always loved. If only my impulsively written novel hadn't caught the attention of actual martial artists.
"Haah."
I felt much better after sending those two out. They seem to regard me as some kind of reclusive martial arts genius, but as I said before, I'm far removed from martial arts.
Beyond being distant from it, I have no connection to it at all.
Therefore, I am not a martial artist.
And I'm certainly not a reclusive genius.
"…I haven't decided on a title yet."
Beyond Wudang and Shaolin, the protagonist of my third work will be a warrior from distant Mount Tianshan. If any descendants of Tianshan are among my readers, I want them to be able to find me.
I scrawl across the cover of the empty book that doesn't yet contain a single word:
"Martial Emperor of Tianshan."
"This title should be adequate."
Dipping the tip of my brush generously in ink, I begin writing the first page.
My nameis Baek Sugyeong.
I'm a modern person who fell into the Central Plains.